You Won't Get Your Way in the End
by xphile.1
Summary: Taking LadyNobleSong's lead (with permission!) on the pairing of Myrtle Snow / Fiona Goode and writing various scenes that come to mind thanks to her awesome fic. Basically, a lot of angst-ridden interaction with the two, with semi-graphic femslash. Trying to develop more of what the history could be between the two.
1. 1972

**Disclaimer: First and foremost, ALL credit for the spark that brought us to this explosive work can be given to the very lovely LadyNobleSong, who is truly my muse (and extremely wonderful) for creating the first pairing of Myrtle Snow and Fiona Goode in her excellent contribution to the site, "You and I, We're Burning Slow." This is a slight spin-off, and obviously AU from the show. Secondly, I intend to make no profit from this work and mean no infringement upon the show; just borrowing the characters for a bit. Also, my writing style is a little weird and this is the first time I've written this type of genre. Don't hate.**

_"I, I can't get these memories out of my mind,_  
_And some kind of madness has started to evolve._  
_And I, I tried so hard to let you go,_  
_But some kind of madness is swallowing me whole, yeah_" - 'Madness' by Muse

**1972**

The sweltering Louisiana summer heat rested like a heavy blanket on Myrtle Snow's chest as she stared up at the ceiling, the thin bed sheets were clutched in both hands resting above her waist. Her signature glasses were on her small nightstand beside her bed, but she didn't need to see in the moonlit room. The images she saw were in her mind and included a certain blonde. Fiona Goode.

Yes, Fiona Goode, the young woman who had all but consumed her every damned waking moment, and hell, even her dreams (or nightmares). Had it been last year her thoughts would have been full of jealousy and borderline hatred, now it was…different. Myrtle couldn't quite label her thoughts and had tried to rationalize what had happened between her and Fiona after she was elected Supreme. It had been several months of trying to forget the kiss they shared. Schoolwork and chores had monopolized Myrtle's time, and she tried to stay focused and stay as far away from Fiona as she could. It was a slight challenge, and Myrtle was grateful for the few vacations Fiona took so that she could simply pretend she did not exist. Even the whole mishap with Spalding and trying to coax the truth from him had been put on the back burner. She still held a distrust of Fiona, but now mixed with those feelings was pure desire.

That kiss. It always clawed and latched onto Myrtle's mind's eye and refused to go away easily. It stirred feelings inside that she never confronted before and threatened to loosen her resolve that she was finally home in a safe place in the coven. Guardian of the truth, indeed. Her own truth. Instead of being able to channel her anger and frustration into hating Fiona, she had to deal with the twisted attraction she felt toward the conniving brat. It had crossed her mind plenty of times that Fiona had conjured some sort of coercion on her, but it perplexed her as to why that would be if she only meant for it to be a kiss and then virtually ignored her for half of a year?

As if on cue, a creak in the floorboards sounded just outside Myrtle's door. Hearing creaks and other house-settling noises was nothing new in the building given its age so she continued to stare upward, unfazed.

Then her door creaked open.

"Psst, fire crotch…you awake?" A sorry attempt at being quiet and the sound of liquid sloshing in a glass earned Myrtle's attention as she reached for her glasses to put them on.

The lack of manners when entering someone else's room. The crass nickname. The faint stench of bourbon burning her nose. It was Fiona.

Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out as a pained sigh of annoyance, Myrtle sat up as the petite blonde plunked her frame onto the foot of the bed after taking a few stumbling steps in her heels. The glass tumbler in Fiona's hand held liquid that nearly spilled over the edge onto Myrtle's bed which she eyed warily.

"I'm shocked. You're actually home early. Run out of men to sleep with? Maybe you should move to Alabama and start on their population." Tired, but not lacking in wit, Myrtle drew her knees up so she could link her arms around her long legs.

Chuckling and giving a toss of her silky blonde hair, Fiona managed to take a careful sip of her drink. "Don't be so jealous, Myrtle. Just because you want to grow cobwebs between your legs doesn't mean we all need to be goddamn nuns, too." She threw a slight half-glare in the redhead's direction as she crossed one thin leg over the other, causing her short black dress to creep up her thighs.

The movement was not unnoticed by Myrtle. She quickly averted her eyes, swallowed hard, and straightened her back. "What is it, Fiona? It's the middle of the night."

"It's not like you were sleeping anyway," Fiona slurred her words as she squirmed on the bed to kick her black heels off, letting them clunk onto the floor. Taking another hearty swig from her glass, she then set onto the task of crawling unsteadily toward Myrtle, her arm brushing against her as she set her glass noisily on the small table.

"I was about to fall asleep and then your drunk ass came barging in here." Myrtle hissed as Fiona's bony knee came to rest on her toes for a brief moment.

"Gee, first my sex life, now my ass…you sure do have a lot of pent up…frustration, Myrt." Fiona breathed the words in a raspy voice against Myrtle's cheek, still on her hands and knees and nearly on top of her. She seemed to be breathing in the scent of her red hair, fingertips coming up to brush through the soft, still damp, wavy tresses. Fiona twirled a few strands around her fingers. "You know…I could take care of your frustration…make it disappear…"

"Great. Does that mean you're leaving?" Thankfully, Myrtle's folded legs drawn up against her chest provided a safeguard from Fiona climbing onto her lap. She tilted her head as if trying to sway her hair from Fiona's grasp.

"Leave you alone? Why? Were you about to play with yourself to get rid of that frustration?" Fiona swiftly removed Myrtle's glasses and dunked them into her glass tumbler that still held the remnants of her drink. "Oopsy…"

Myrtle grit her teeth together, primarily due to the current state of her favorite glasses, but also because of the predicament she was now in with this hellacious woman. Evidently it was not enough that she spent almost half a year trying to ignore this power hungry bitch that consumed her mind more often than she would like to admit. It was a cosmic farce that the vixen was on her bed obviously trying to get something from Myrtle, but what that something was remained a mystery to her.

Grabbing the blonde's arm firmly just above her wrist, Myrtle attempted to keep Fiona's gaze level with her own. "What do you want from me, Fiona Goode?" Her voice was low and determined.

Fiona's head lolled to the side as she smirked, that thing she did when flirting with the numerous men she would drag back to her room in the middle of the night. Her fingers dangled in Myrtle's grasp, trying to brush against the back of the woman's hand, effectively tickling her skin. "Darlin'…your secret is safe with me. No one will ever suspect a thing…they all think we hate each other since you despise me being the Supreme. We're mortal enemies or some shit like that." Her other arm flailed up semi-dramatically as if to punctuate her words.

Still skeptical, Myrtle felt her resolve fading the longer she let Fiona stay in such close vicinity. Her voice almost cracked as she spoke quietly, afraid that someone may overhear them. "What secret? What the hell are you talking about?"

"For fuck's sake, Myrt…you date the most flamboyant ass guys that love theater and still suckle from their mother's tit. You spend all your time doing homework, and…you love cats. And not just the kind that meow and have four legs."

Fiona leaned back into a kneeling position while pulling her arm free of Myrtle's grasp, and nearly toppled off of the bed. Quick to react, Myrtle grabbed the blonde's hand firmly to ensure she wouldn't end up on the floor and thus have to explain to the headmistress what all of the ruckus was in the middle of the night. Not wanting to prove her right, she released Fiona as soon as she seemed balanced again.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Fiona. Have another drink." By some miracle, Myrtle was able to keep her cool façade as she stretched her legs out under the bedsheets languidly. Part of keeping her cool was focusing on how angry she was about her glasses. That bitch definitely owed her a pair if they were ruined. She cast a sidelong glance at her table.

"Hmm, that's the best damn idea you've ever had. Oh, and don't think I'm letting you off the hook _that_ easily, m'dear. You truly should rethink your 'guardian of truth' bullshit." Fiona stared at Myrtle with an unmistakably predatory gaze as she reached for the glass again, yanking the sheets off of her legs in the process. She took Myrtle's glasses out of the tumbler and ran her tongue along the lens to lap the liquid droplets. Her lips wrapped around the edge of the frames then pursed to suck on them ardently.

While Myrtle was distracted with this ruse, Fiona calmly tipped the rest of the glass' contents straight onto Myrtle's lap, a few small ice cubes clinking together at the junction of her thighs. "Hmm, I really need to learn how to hold my liquor better," her voice dropped a few octaves.

As Myrtle jerked back, startled by the coldness between her legs from the liquid that seeped through her thin nightgown, Fiona's head dipped down swiftly. She hovered over the ice cubes, forcing a breath of hot air directly over Myrtle's center.

"What the hel-…" Myrtle ceased talking as Fiona slipped her mouth over one of the ice cubes, rolling it around with her tongue against the redhead's mound. If the last six months had been hell, Myrtle was certain this would be even more of an apocalypse to get over. Naïvely allowing her body's immediate reactions to take over, Myrtle slipped both hands into Fiona's hair, even though her brain was screaming at her, shrieking even. What on earth was she thinking? Allowing this bitch to tantalize her once again? Her head fell back as Fiona pressed the melting cube against her harder, using the strength of her tongue to force it into her slit through her nightgown.

"F-f-uck…Fiona," she managed to mutter almost inaudibly as she allowed her legs to part further. She clutched the sheets and arched her back, pushing her pelvis toward Fiona's sizzling mouth.

Seeming to be encouraged by this, Fiona let the forgotten glass and glasses rest on the bed beside them and took a hold of Myrtle's thighs, fingertips digging into her flesh as her nightgown slid up. The first cube had melted, but she still had two more that rested in a small pool of watered down bourbon. _Hell, one more wouldn't hurt_, she thought. Using her tongue to guide the cube to the middle of Myrtle's center again, she worked it against her even more roughly than the first time, making sure to rub it over the area of the tiny sensitive bundle of nerves.

Her breathing ragged and sharp, Myrtle rolled her hips a few times, keeping Fiona's head in place with both hands.

The true bitch witch that she was, Fiona finished the second ice cube and stopped abruptly, leaving Myrtle just on the edge. Lifting her head and kneeling up again, she stared at Myrtle's flushed face, watching her try to catch her breath. A smirk played on her lips as she saw how flustered she was, and how pissed off she was that Fiona had stopped what she was doing. Fingertips pressed on the ice cube on Myrtle's lap, Fiona nudged it against her swollen mound teasingly. Her voice dropped low as she leaned toward the redhead. "You stay out of my way, Myrtle Snow, keep your pretty little mouth shut, and then no one will find out about your little secret. Now…it's your turn."

It wasn't a question. It was a command. She picked the cube up from Myrtle's soaked lap and held it out to her.


	2. 1972 - part 2

**_AN: _****A little shorter than anticipated and a little fluffy toward the end, but it'll get back to normal soon.**

_"And now I have finally seen the light  
And I have finally realized what you need" - 'Madness' by Muse_

**1972 - part 2**

Myrtle shot Fiona a fiery glare in the brightly moonlit bedroom, her chest about to burst with anger. She _knew_ it, just goddamn knew it. Fiona never gave of herself; she _always_ took. She always got what she wanted. This seemed to be a losing battle for Myrtle as she was finding it difficult to say no to her. The threat to her deepest truth that she could barely admit to herself made her give a moment's pause to Fiona's icy warning.

Holding her palm above Fiona's outstretched hand and not quite touching the ice cube, Myrtle titled her head to the side, her auburn locks now framing her face much like a roaring fire. "What if I don't care, Fiona? What if I don't give one damned shit about what you'll tell everyone? It's not like I would be able to trust you either way, not after what happened to Anna-Leigh and Spalding. You're a danger to this very coven, and you _don't _deserve to be the Supreme. I'm not afraid of you, and I never will be."

The blasphemous words rolled off of Myrtle's tongue as she stared pointedly at the blonde who was still kneeling in front of her. The relaxed, albeit drunken, intimidating demeanor Fiona had embodied throughout this whole encounter had shifted to one of bristled irritation. Myrtle waited, her whole body tensed and ready for Fiona's retaliation, fully anticipating to be thrown against the wall, or for a knife to be produced against her throat, or maybe even to have her bed set on fire. Quite peculiarly, none of that happened. She was caught off guard by the blonde's shoulders starting to shake as she laughed. It wasn't a friendly laugh, but one of wickedness and arrogance.

"Oh, Myrtle Snow. .._please_, keep playing hard to get. I so enjoy this little game." The laughter continued for another moment as Fiona climbed onto her lap, straddling the passive woman who gave no indication of moving. She placed the ice cube against the Myrtle's mouth, and leaned forward. "I am offering you a chance to help save this coven, you stupid bitch," she rasped against her cheek. Scooting closer on Myrtle's lap so their hipbones were crushed together, she breathed into her ear heatedly, pushing her nose into her soft red hair. Myrtle closed her eyes, her breathing now becoming shallow, as she placed her hands timidly on the woman's waist.

Fiona continued speaking in a low voice, and gave a lone teasing nudge of her hips against Myrtle's hips. "I need you, Myrt." She rolled her hips again, moaning quietly and took brief pause before continuing her explanation. "I've always known you weren't afraid of me, and that's why this works so perfectly. We keep showing the world that we hate each other. You'll stop trying to fuck up my life by dragging my name in the dirt and trying to take away what means most to me, and I'll make sure that you'll never be alone." The last sentence was punctuated with Fiona slipping the ice cube past Myrtle's now numb lips. She let her fingertips linger, tracing the cool flesh as her other hand lifted to rest on the redhead's shoulder.

The small cube crunched between her teeth as she chewed the remains, and Myrtle somehow restrained herself from biting Fiona's fingertips. It was a painful awareness, feeling Fiona's light frame on her lap and so close to such a sensitive swollen part of her body, but she had to stand her ground. Two could play this game, didn't Fiona realize this? Using both hands, Myrtle's slender fingers skimmed over Fiona's bare thighs and disappeared beneath the hem of her black dress. She traced circles against her flesh, slowly inching toward her inner thigh. Angling her head, she brushed her nose against Fiona's neck. "And just how the hell would _you_ of all people…help this coven, Fiona? The last time I checked, spreading your legs was not one of the Seven Wonders."

With a hoarse chuckle, Fiona tossed her head back and pulled away slightly to look at her companion. She smoothed her palms over the woman's feathery hair and then placed her hands on each of her shoulders to toy with the thin straps of Myrtle's nightgown. "Don't you pay attention? We're becoming extinct. The academy's funds are drying out faster than your twat. Anna-Leigh with her hippie shit mindset wasn't doing a goddamn thing to stop the bleeding. Sure, we have powers, some of us more than others, but we need…money. Money leads to more power so we can sustain these bloodlines. I'm the only one who sees this, and I know exactly how to fix it." Her gaze lowered and she slowly began to pull the straps down Myrtle's shoulders so that the front of her nightgown was barely covering her breasts. "You, my pet, keep the council off my back by pretending to handle the pointless inquiry of that worthless hag's death yourself, and I'll make sure this coven stays intact and fully funded." Fiona slid a palm over one of Myrtle's breasts, smirking as the action had the desired effect of a pert nipple poking against the thin fabric.

Trying to channel the strength to disregard her body's reaction to Fiona's touch, Myrtle scowled at the confession. "So you did kill her…"

"That's not the point of this conversation, Myrtle. What's done is done. We must focus on the coven…on ourselves. We can't worry about this petty shit. Anna-Leigh was dying, and it was my time to take over. I'm not so clueless to realize that this is too big to take on by myself, though. And I'm sure it gets you wet knowing that you're a major factor in this scheme."

"You're a sick woman, Fiona."

"I don't see you trying very hard to get away from me." As if to emphasize her point, Fiona pushed her hips down into Myrtle again, with that damned smirk on her face.

As much as she hated to admit it, Fiona had a damned good point about the funding. Without it, the school would no longer be able to stay open and take in new students. They needed a new benefactor and soon. The safety of their kind depended on it. Myrtle truly believed in the benefits of Miss Robichaux's Academy; the education and general life skills they learned there in addition to the sharpening of their individual powers was critical to their longevity. Many years ago there was even a sense of solidarity and sisterhood. Without this shelter to protect them, they would be left to the world's plans, which was not always in their favor.

Ignoring the taut skin under her nightgown begging to be caressed again, Myrtle cleared her throat, wishing her glasses were clean. It seemed to be an appropriate time to adjust the frames. "So what's your plan? I sincerely doubt you're going to join the working force to hand over your paycheck to the academy. Although, I always thought you'd fancy a whore house as your calling."

Chuckling at the comment, Fiona began to knead Myrtle's exposed shoulders. "I'm not surprised that you'd think of me that way, you twisted girl. But no, I'm not getting a _job_," she spit the word out as if it were spoiled milk.

By now the alcohol coursing through Fiona's body had waned considerably, but she was the type of person that functioned on alcohol the way others functioned with coffee. She was not a sloppy drunk by any means, at least not tonight. She needed Myrtle to take her as seriously as possible, and knew the balance of alcohol she could allow herself that evening. Still, her body craved the burn of whiskey and the buzz it gave her to get through her daily life. Continuing again, the smirk on her lips grew. "I'm going to find some rich old bastard and wait for him to croak. It's the same thing women have done for decades, so it shouldn't be too difficult or suspicious. If I have to, I can always bat my eyelashes." With a little lift of her shoulders, she stopped her massage of Myrtle's shoulders and gave them a solid shake. "So? Are you in? Or do I get to tell everyone about your pussy cat addiction?"

Who was she to deny her assistance to the Supreme? Especially when her plan actually made some sense? It didn't seem as though she had to sell her soul to Fiona, or commit any type of crime, and that, she would make damn sure never happened. Myrtle still had her limits. Fiona may push those limits, but Myrtle was not one to bend easily. Tough shit for Fiona if she thought she would get her way for all of this, though.

The redhead gave a brisk nod of her head. Leaning forward caused her nightgown to slip further down her chest, uncovering both breasts, and she trailed her fingers along Fiona's inner thighs gingerly. "You finish what you started earlier, Fiona Goode, and I'm all yours."

Letting out a sigh of relief and pleasure as Myrtle's fingertips drifted dangerously closer to her center, Fiona grinned. This would be a small price to pay for her master plan to be put in motion. She moved her hands from Myrtle's shoulders to cup her breasts and pushed her backward until her head hit the pillows. "Oh, I'll finish you alright…you'll be begging for more, doll."

The glass tumbler and Myrtle's glasses clattered to the floor as Fiona shifted on the bed to remove her dress. Her dark laughter returned as glass exploded on the wooden floor. The room was then silent for several minutes with the exception of creaking from the bed and hushed moans from both of the young women. True to Fiona's word, Myrtle was soon begging her for the final push toward rapture. This time, Fiona obliged, sealing their contract with another heated kiss to match the fervor of the first one they shared many months ago. Afterward, they held each other's gaze, sated and trying to catch their breath. Fiona smoothed Myrtle's hair, and then dropped her head to rest her cheek on the soft locks. "I knew you'd beg. Kinky bitch," she whispered with a smirk on her lips.

Too tired to respond this time, Myrtle rolled her eyes, letting her forehead rest against the blonde's head as she waited for sleep to claim her body. Whether Fiona would stay the whole night she wasn't sure, and she didn't have the heart to ask. In a warped perverse way, she knew Fiona was using her, but by some token Myrtle was doing the same. Soon the muggy Louisiana air swept her away to sleep, and the last thing she felt were Fiona's lips pressing against her cheek lightly.


End file.
